My lungs expel air. Keri was right? The last three days of worry were about a promotion? I guess I shouldn’t have been so skeptical. I just didn’t think I’d ever be a candidate. Not when I can’t intelligibly talk to our clients outside of email. But the holiday season is always when employees move up at Limitless Designs.
And for reasons none of us can figure out, the person with the most Christmas cheer gets the advancement.
Every single time.
Sofiya extends her hand first to Jeremy and then to me. “I’ll let you know my decision right after the holiday.” Her phone rings, and she apologizes before answering.
I glance surreptitiously at Jeremy as he stands. Sofiya has effectively turned my secret office crush into my not-so-secret office rival. No doubt he is overjoyed by the possibility of a promotion. After all, that would be the normal reaction. The hollow pit in my stomach feels more like dread than joy, however.
It only takes that glance to prove what I already know: Jeremy Fletcher is put together, competent, and a shoo-in for this promotion. I am a hot mess and should throw in my red velvet Santa hat here and now.
Jeremy pauses once the office door is closed behind us. The sounds of our coworkers click-clacking away on their keyboards is the base soundtrack to most of my day and instantly brings me a sense of relief. As soon as I get back to my computer, I can bury my head in the proverbial sand of InDesign and finish the brochures for the Milwaukee Wilderness Group.
“Good luck,” Jeremy says, his voice a rich timbre that doesn’t hold even an ounce of mocking rivalry. Instead, he sounds ... sincere.
I look up so I won’t be talking to his middle button when I respond. I’ve never had a reason for such proximity before and have certainly never fabricated one. I’m more of the admire-from-afar type. Once upon a time, I’d have been considered awallflower, which sounds so much better than the truth—that I’m still experiencing the shyness my parents swore I’d grow out of. Thirty-three years old and still waiting for a birthday to come around when I can unwrap the gift of not being awkward in social situations.
I open my mouth, but to my horror, an unintelligible sound slurs from my lips before I can clamp them closed.
Jeremy’s brows pull low. But then the corner of his mouth quirks up. “See ya around, Mackenzie.” He slips his fingers into his front pockets and strides away.
A flash of canary yellow enters my peripheral vision a second before Keri steps in front of me.
“Well?” she asks, eyes wide.
My shoulders slump. “I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t talk about my best friend that way.” She plants her hands on her hips.
“Even if it’s true?”
“Lies!”
I look over Keri’s shoulder as Jeremy turns the corner, disappearing from view. This isn’t the first impression I’ve made on Jeremy, but before, I could take comfort in knowing I’d presented myself with quiet professionalism. I was okay with my position of nameless coworker, feeding my hidden feelings without any real-life interaction. But now everything has changed.
Keri hooks her arm through mine and tugs. “Stairwell. Now.”
Since our office is on the ninth floor, no one takes the stairs. That abandoned corner of the building has become our echoey space when we need a few stolen moments and don’t want to be overheard.
Keri pushes on the metal exit bar to open the heavy door to the stairs. The air is cooler, with no heat circulating in the small but tall space. The latch clicks behind us, and Keri twirls, the yellow skirt of her vintage dress spiraling out over her petticoats.I told her once she reminds me of Mary Tyler Moore fromThe Dick Van Dyke Show,and she’d given me a beaming smile.
“Tell me everything.”
I sigh and sit on the top stair heading down to the eighth floor. Keri gathers her skirts and gingerly settles next to me.
“Jeremy Fletcher and I are officially competing for the same promotion.”
She nudges my shoulder with hers. “This is good news, Kenz. You should be celebrating, not looking like your cat just died. You know what you have to do to win the promotion. You’re practically an honorary elf, so this will be easy for you.”
But my favorite parts of Christmas are the Secret Santa parts. Emphasis onsecret. I can crank up Mariah Carey or Nat King Cole and rock out to them in my car. Bake dozens of sugar cookies and gingerbread men and drop them off at my neighbor’s in-house daycare for the children to decorate. Fill up the Toys for Tots bin at the store and imagine a marine in uniform making a kid’s day on Christmas morning. Build a snowman in the memory care facility’s yard.
None of these things requires me to speak to multiple people or draw any sort of attention to myself.
Christmas should be twinkle lights and snowflake kisses. Magic sprinkled in the air like sugar on holiday cookies. The spirit of the season is supposed to work like a Magic Eraser on the stresses and doldrums of everyday life. It’s the something special that happens when Jack Frost nips at your nose and when the nostalgia of music played only one time of year harmonizes with the Salvation Army bell ringers to bring a perfect pitch to the world’s favorite holiday.
But instead of a Hallmark Channel marathon of festive magic, Sofiya is taking something good and joyous and making it into her own production ofChristmas Wars: Office Edition.
“Have you ever wondered why Sofiya always does promotionsaround the holidays and then awards the job to the person with the most Christmas spirit?” Keri’s accustomed to carrying more than her fair share of the conversation. It’s one of the reasons we’re such good friends. “I mean, the first year, I thought it was merely a coincidence. But it keeps happening. It’s turned into a competition for who can out-Christmas the other person, not necessarily who is better for the job.”
